Golf: Tiger Woods is ruining my life

By Ryan Noonan Sports Central Columnist

Two weeks ago, my world as I know it, changed forever... or at least for a while. My life, in all intents and purposes, is going down the toilet; and the only person I can think to blame is Mr. Tiger Woods.

I'll preface the rest of this by saying, for the most part, I am not a huge fan of golf. I don't read about it in magazines and try not to watch it on television. I am not good at the "sport." It is a safe bet to say all of my friends can beat me. That alone is reason enough not to like golf. But I'll go so far as to say my little sister could probably beat me, as well. Not that I'd ever care to find out. She needs no further evidence to support her case that she has surpassed her older brother in almost all of life's categories.

Okay, I made my point. Not a fan of golf.

Three weeks ago, I plugged in a PlayStation 2 into my apartment. My roommate showed lukewarm excitement at the new game console. Along with the PS2, came the games NCAA Football and some boxing game that turned out to suck. Neither game falls into his category of "fun," so I figured he wouldn't spend much time playing.

A week later, the PS2 had seen about 20 minutes of action, and I was starting to think the $300 would be going to waste. That's when everything changed. That is when Tiger showed up.

My roommate, looking for some video fun that wasn't porn, decided to pony up the $40 and get a game he would enjoy playing. And what's more fun than a golf game? To me, it sounded about as much fun as watching "Lifetime: Television for Women," but Mike (my roommate) seemed convinced this was a good game.

This is how our first conversation went, after the game had been purchased.

"Hi, Mike."

"Ugh."

"Shouldn't you be at work?"

"Huh ... SON OF A B&!$#! WHY WON'T THE F#$^!& BALL GET IN THE HOLE?!?!"

And with that, I went into my room and locked the door.

The next morning, I was up and ready to get back out on the job hunt. I'm on, what I like to call, an extended vacation. My dad likes to call it being an unemployed worthless bum. I like my term better.

Anyway, I'm showered, dressed, on my way out the door. Mike is sitting in front of the television, eyes locked on the video game. I mean, total concentration. I could be stealing the couch, or maybe the shirt off his back, and he wouldn't have flinched.

"Bye, Mike."

"Huh? Oh, hey, sit down, play a little."

"Nah, I'm not into golfing games. And I got a big day ahead. I think this is the day I get my job."

"Come on, one game. It'll take 15 minutes."

"All right, one game."

I picked up the controller, he reset the game, and we started ...

Flash forward two weeks. I still don't have a job. To be more specific, I haven't looked for a job. There is a pile of clothes in my room that haven't been washed in two weeks. I think I've showered three times. Only shaved twice (although honestly, that's pretty normal). I bought some frozen pizza's during my one trip to the grocery store and that's all I've eaten. I don't have time to cook. I don't even have time to look up a number for food delivery. Some days, I don't eat.

Let me tell you what I have done in the last two weeks. I've taken a character and turned him into a fantastic golfer. Men like Colin Montgomery and Brad Faxon were absolutely no match for my character. And I should have beaten Justin Leonard, had it not been for an unbelievable eagle on the 18th hole at Sawgrass. I hate that guy.

I wake up in the morning, play, play some more, take a break to use the restroom and maybe heat up a pizza, play more, take a break to watch the Simpsons, play more, Mike comes home, we play a few more rounds, then I go to bed. Yes, I just summed up everyday for the last two weeks.

I haven't gone out at all. Not only have I not gone out with a girl in two weeks, other than the elderly check-out lady at the grocery store, I haven't even talked to a female since the Tiger Woods Golf epidemic started.

Yes, this is what Tiger Woods has reduced me to. And it's not just me. My roommate, Mike, shows up to work sometimes an hour late, because we have to go to extra holes to determine a winner. Other friends who now have the game actually come home from work during their lunch break to get in a quick round.

That's another thing, we've started referring to playing Tiger Woods Golf as "getting in a quick 18." Seriously. Is this not the saddest thing you've ever heard?

Article courtesy of Sports Central.